


What Sober Couldn’t Say

by KuraiTsuky



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Other, Post Extraction, Post-Canon, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:42:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiTsuky/pseuds/KuraiTsuky
Summary: After the extraction, Vala and Aziru have a drink. It doesn’t go according to plan, but when does it ever?
Relationships: Ba'al/Vala Mal Doran, Vala Mal Doran & Aziru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	What Sober Couldn’t Say

**Author's Note:**

> The title's from the song of the same name by Halestorm.

It hits like a storm, Vala isn’t sure why this time it’s different from when she was separated from Qetesh, but it is. The tears pour from her eyes like water from a broken dam, even as she drinks, even as the taste of liquor burns in her throat. She’s not sure if he’s crying too, she can’t see him from under her own hair, she’s unsure she wants to.

“I think I loved him” she manages to spit out after a while, rubbing furiously at her cheeks until they hurt. Her speech is a bit slurred though she not a lightweight, usually. He doesn’t say anything, now that she’s raised her head, she can see him from the corner of her eye, holding the empty glass in such a tight grip she’s afraid it might crack.

“Aziru.” he says, voice raspy, possibly wobbly too. Vala is not sure why or how she understands but more tears prickle in her eyes. She is tired of crying for this though, more so when barely a tear is for him. She attempts to swallow the knot in her throat as he looks into her eyes.

“That was my name. I’m not sure if it longer fits.”

“It’ll never fit like it used to.” The truth leaves her raw; lying is so much easier than dealing with this thing growing inside her. Vala has never felt right as a name, as an identity. Falling into old habits became easier and easier but she always felt as though a part of her had been ripped from the rest. And she wasn’t a host for that long; Vala cannot fathom the depth of his wound.

He gets up, dejected and sways a bit. She goes to steady him and almost falls on her face. There are a dozen glasses in front of them, but she only remembers drinking a couple. They drag themselves out of the bar, or what passes for a bar for the Tok’ra, the celebration is grating on their nerves.

They spend the rest of the night talking, in daylight, when sober, they’ll have to smile, pretend they are thankful and happy, that all the bad things have vanished from this broken universe of theirs. They’ll have to pretend they are free, as though freedom is something that can be given. But now, in the dim lighting of the tent, an empty bottle between them, they can be honest. Whisper all the words that tear them apart, the truth feeling sour in their mouths, with an after taste of relief.

And tomorrow they’ll blame the alcohol for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Review, or not, it's a free country.


End file.
